Capture
by Jenny70529
Summary: A dangerous serial killer is on the loose, and the CSIs are on a race against time as one of their own get taken. GregSara.
1. Missing

_Disclaimer: Not mine, though I really wish they were. _

_Author's Notes: I'd like to thank Kegel (From this point forward being known as Evil-In-Training) for inspiring a certain scene in this story, which prompted me to begin yet a new WIP. I'd also like to thank her for beta reading the first half of the chapter. Thanks girl!_

_Replies make chapters flow easily, so please let me know what you think!_

_Jenny_

**Captured:**

Sara sighed, wiping the thin layer of sweat off of her forehead before slipping on her CSI baseball cap, already starting to feel the effects of the hot desert sun on her tired, overworked body. They had gotten the call shortly before midnight, possibly the 9th victim of a serial case they had been working for weeks, and 12 hours later, they were still sorting through mounds of conflicting evidence.

She stood from her squatting position, frowning and stretching as her back and leg muscles complained, and stiffly walked towards the porch entrance to the master bedroom, where Greg was intently searching for something to tell them about their unidentified victim. She paused in the doorway, her voice scratchy from fatigue, "Have you found anything?"

"Not even the slightest indication that she lived here. Men's clothing in the closet, drawers. No makeup, perfume, shoes...nothing in the bathroom to suggest he didn't live alone. I even went through the guy's bank statements, nothing that would indicate they were even dating. Brass is trying to locate him now." Greg replied, stifling a yawn. "I've got signs of a struggle, though, I'll let you know when I know something."

Sara nodded, motioning that was going to cut across to go towards the living room, trying to find the rest of their vic. They had been presented with a severed head and an abundance of blood upon arrival to the scene. Although, if this case was related to their prior serials, it was unlikely they'd find the rest of the body for awhile.

They called him Stew, off the record and behind Grissom's back. His common practice? Dismembering his victims and bringing the parts with him, leaving only the head behind. They would later, as with the other victims, find only the bones, the flesh being boiled off somewhere else during the process. The cases were disturbing on the best of days, horrifying on the worst. They would work the scene relentlessly for hours, only to find that nearly all of their evidence lead them in no direction whatsoever. After over a month of tracking this killer from victim to victim, they were no closer to finding him, or identifying him, than they were upon starting the investigation.

Reaching into her kit to retrieve some aspirin for a monstrosity of a headache, she froze, the hair on her neck standing on end as a wave of terror washed through her. She quickly spun around, feeling as if someone was watching her. She relaxed slightly, seeing that she was still alone, and tried to shake off the paranoid fear that sometimes crept up on her after a long shift. Swallowing the pills dry, she clicked her kit shut, lifting her camera to take another set of shots. It never hurt to be extra-careful when it came to a high profile serial case such as this one.

Snapping two close up pictures of the blood spatter on the interior wall, she felt the nervous paranoia sinking in once again. Hand on her weapon, she turned once more to the entrance, unable to control her pounding heart and shallow breathing even though she could plainly see that no one was around. Cautiously opening the front door, she frowned to find the entrance unoccupied.

Glancing over to the patrol car, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was even too hot for the officer to stand in the shade when he could retreat to his air conditioned car. She couldn't blame him...if there was anywhere she could be besides the stifling home with no air conditioning or the brutal outside sun, she'd gladly jump at the chance. With a sigh, she shut the door and moved towards the hall closet, a few mere feet from the door, and swung it open, hand once again on her gun. With a sigh of relief, she found it empty. Maybe now she could concentrate on her job instead of the paranoid fear of 'what-if's'.

Her phone vibrated against her side, and with a startled yelp, she pulled it out, breathlessly gasping, "Sidle." into the small black contraption.

"Sara? Are you alright?" Grissom's voice rang over the line, "You sound different."

"It's nothing." Sara replied, rolling her eyes as she squatted to open her kit once more, "Just working. We've got nothing."

"Any ID?"

"Because all women keep their licenses in their head?" Sara quipped, "No, and it doesn't look like she belongs here. There is no evidence that she lives here, or even stays over...no clothing, personal belongings, anything to indicate a female presence. We're still looking for something...just...anything. This guy's smart, Gris."

"We're smarter. Where's Nicky?" Grissom questioned, "If you guys haven't finished in the next hour or so, I'll pull in Catherine and Warrick early so you guys can get some rest."

"You don't have to do that, we can handle it. We're doing fine." Sara snapped, knowing fully well that he was just trying to be helpful, but resenting the fact that he was going to take her case from her, even if it was only temporary, "Nick went to pick us up lunch, have you tried his cell?"

"I tried his cell, but his call was breaking up too badly to understand him. I don't want you guys wearing yourselves out over there, when people get too tired, they tend to make careless mistakes." Grissom warned, "If you need a break, take one. The scene will still be there tonight after you have gone home and slept awhile."

Sara huffed angrily, "It'll get done, Grissom, don't worry about it."

She hung up the phone, ramming it into her pocket as she muttered, "Could have come here to help us last night, but no, you were too busy with your paperwork. Now you're concerned? That makes tons of sense, Grissom, really."

Hearing a quiet creaking noise behind her, Sara's heartbeat sped and she once again spun around to find herself alone. Maybe she did need a break from this case...she was starting to let her imagination get away from her.

She was saved from her paranoid, chilling imagination by her phone buzzing once more. Flipping it open, she snapped, "We'll never finish if you don't stop harassing us Grissom!"

"Woah, woah there." Nick's voice filtered through the line, "It's just me. What's he done to upset you now?"

Sara sighed, moving towards the coffee table with her printing powder, "He wants to call in Warrick and Catherine to take over for us."

"What! It's our case!" Nick exclaimed, "They aren't taking our case! We've been working to catch this guy for weeks!"

Sara groaned, balancing her phone on her ear while she began to print, "I know, but you know how he is, he doesn't understand what the big deal is. I told him no deal."

"Good, I haven't worked this hard just to hand it over to someone else because of one long day." Nick said gruffly, "I'll call him and let him know that it's no big deal for us to work O/T, we won't max out. What I was calling for..." He paused, yawning widely, "The sandwich shop I was going to go to had a huge line. What else would you want?"

"Anything's fine with me, you know what I like." Sara replied, "Let me go see what Greg wants."

"Just tried to call him, I guess he doesn't have his cell turned on." Nick murmured, "He should know better than that by now..."

Sara laid down her brush and jar of printing powder on the top of her case, calling out, "Greg? What else do you want for lunch? Nick can't get into the sandwich shop!"

After a few moments of silence, Sara spoke with a heavy sigh into the phone, "He must not be able to hear me, I'll talk to him and call you right back."

"Don't worry about it, I know what he likes. Get back to work before Grissom removes us from the case." Nick replied, "I'll be there in 15."

Sara slid the phone back into her pocket, grabbing her powder and brush once more. Nick was right, Greg could care less what he ate for lunch, as long as it was a warm meal. She began to hum quietly, lifting several prints before moving to the sliding glass door near the back patio.

She was reaching for her tape lift when she heard the faint creaking of a door hinge. Her heart racing, yet again, she looked over her shoulder, the canister of powder she was holding falling to the floor with a soft thud. She brought a hand to her heart as she saw Nick's smiling face in the doorway, several paper bags in his hand.

"You scared me half to death!" Sara exclaimed, "Don't sneak up on me like that, I could shoot you!"

Nick laughed, waving the bag of food, "Don't want to shoot the guy with your lunch, now, do you?" he teased, "Let's go sit in the truck, where it's cool, and eat."

"I'll go get Greg." Sara said with a nod, nudging him with her elbow as she passed by.

Nick was halfway out the front door when he heard Sara's shaky voice call out, "Nick? I...I, uh, need your help in here."

_TBC_


	2. Messages

_Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long...but the chapter's extra long just because of the wait. I loved reading your response...look forward to more! _

_Jenny_

**Chapter Two:**

"Gil Grissom, please report to reception. Gill Grissom, please report to reception."

Grissom slammed the stack of folders he was carrying down onto the conference room table, "When I tell her 'no interruptions', what does she think I'm talking about?" he grumbled, moving towards the doorway.

His steps echoed through the quiet lab, a pang of remorse weighing him down heavily. The details of Nick's disappearance just two years earlier still caused his insides to tighten and ache, and yet here they were, faced with loss once again.

If it was their serial killer who had taken Greg from the scene, there was little chance they'd find their friend alive. The first 9 victims hadn't survived this man's reign of terror, and even with Greg's training and knowledge, it was a definitely possibility that they'd find his remains before they had the slightest clue of who had captured him.

He made it to reception, the fury in his eyes quickly visible to Judy, who silently motioned to a package, "A kid just dropped off this envelope. It's got CSI Sanders's name on it."

Silently Grissom pulled a glove from his pocket, lifting the envelope with a frown. After careful inspection, he spoke softly, "A kid?"

"Couldn't have been older than 12. Before I could ask any questions, he rushed out of here." Judy replied, "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Without responding, Grissom turned and rushed back to the conference room, where he had gotten the majority of the lab gathered. Slamming the door behind him, Grissom dropped the envelope to the table, taking a seat and silently opening the seal. Turning the envelope over, he wasn't too surprised to see a cassette tape fall from the package, without as much as a note.

"What is that?"

"It's from our killer." Grissom replied, tossing a glove towards Jaqui, "Take this envelope and see if you can work any prints off of this." He glanced towards the opposite end of the long table, "Wendy, go check on my DNA results. Archie, get me a cassette player, now."

The lab techs scurried from the room, leaving only Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Sara remaining at the table. Grissom turned to Sara, speaking quietly, "I think you should step outside for this."

"No." Sara replied, her voice coming out stronger than she had anticipated it to, "I'm staying. This is Greg we're talking about. My Greg. I'm staying."

Nick reached out to her, his hand on her forearm, "Sara, maybe it's for the best..."

"No!" Sara replied loudly, "I won't touch anything, I won't say anything...just let me be in here. I swear, I won't compromise any of your evidence, I would never do that."

"I know, but this is going to be hard to hear." Nick soothed, "Are you certain--?"

"I'm staying." Sara huffed, her trembling arms crossed over her chest.

Archie ran back into the room, cassette player in hand, and thrust it into Grissom's waiting hands, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Please." Grissom replied, motioning towards the end of the table where Archie had been seated earlier. He slid the cassette into the player, his hand trembling slightly as he pressed the 'Play' button.

_Hello, my name is Greg Sanders. I work for the Las Vegas crime lab as a CSI level one. I would like to tell my wife, Sara, that I never meant for her to go through this. I am so sorry, sweetheart. I would like to tell my colleagues and friends that there was...nothing...you could have done. I've been allowed a five minute message to be sent to the crime lab, so I'll keep it short and straightforward. _

Sara gasped quietly as her husband's voice echoed through the still room, tears that she had just gotten under control starting to pool in her brown eyes once more. He was alive, at least, he had been. Already their killer was deviating from his normal pattern.

_As I sit here waiting...in my ultimatum prison cell...I can't help but wonder...Is this a test? Is has to be...I want to tell you that there is... no fault, none to blame...we're left to...push the envelope, watch it bend._

"What is he talking about?" Nick asked softly, "Do you think they've drugged him?"

_Sometimes in life we're in the cross roads between the right way and the hard way. I think of my past...my rocky relationships with Lucy and Nancy...that feisty little tiger, Lily...Janice and Opal are definitely in my past. I've always felt that my future would be a breeze, I could view myself sitting in a country club somewhere, sitting back without a care or concern. Now I can see that I was wrong. There are always problems facing you, hidden dangers lurking around every corner. _

"They had to have given him something...or maybe they're forcing him to read a pre-scripted monologue?" Catherine questioned, "What do you think, Gris?"

"I think we need to listen to the rest of the recording before making assumptions." Grissom replied in a steely voice, his hand clenched tightly beneath the table. Something wasn't right, this certainly didn't sound like something Greg would say, although it was clearly the CSI's voice.

_My beautiful Sara...please be sure to give Andy, Matthew, Isabel, Larry, Linda, Elaine, and Ryan my love. If I don't make it back to you, and I've been assured I won't, don't be afraid to move on, don't be haunted by demons of the past. I love you more than you will ever know, you're always on my mind, and I'll always be in your heart. _

"Who is he talking about?" Warrick murmured, "Are any of those names familiar, Sara?"

"No." Sara replied quietly, her eyes glued to the tape player, her heart racing. Was he still alive? Was he hurt? Was it even their serial killer who had taken him?

_Nick, you're my best friend. Please watch out for my girl..she may need your help more than either of you will realize. You've always been there for me, and I have never forgotten that. You're a great person, a wonderful CSI, and the best friend anyone could ask for. _

Nick sniffled quietly, trying to hold back tears as his hand connected with Sara's, their fingers entwining together. He was only able to offer her a soft smile before closing his eyes, not wanting everyone else to see the moisture clouding his vison. He gave her hand a light squeeze, and she returned it silently, her eyes also closed as she stifled her own sobs.

_Warrick, what can I say? You've worked hard to overcome so much against you...you're a good guy Warrick, one of the few good guys out there. _

Warrick's expression remained stoic, although a flicker of pain resonated deep in his eyes, and his hand twitched slightly, as if he was ready to ram his fist into the nearest wall. It shouldn't be like this, not one of their own, not Greg.

_Catherine...you know, I never got to see you naked...I guess when you told me "not in this lifetime", you really held up to your word. Take good care of Lindsey, you know how teenagers are._

"One track mind, Greg, one track mind." She whispered softly, looking down at the table, her lip trembling slightly as she bit back tears.

_Grissom, I'm sorry I allowed myself to get taken. I'm sorry I let you down. I bet you're sitting there with that serious look on your face, wishing you would have never let me out of the lab...of course, even lab work has its dangers. It wasn't your training that failed me, it was my own stupidity. _

Grissom's expression remained unchanged, although it was clear that his emotions were running dangerously close to the surface. He had never doubted pulling Greg from the lab to put him in the field. The young man was brilliant, he had turned into a very capable investigator. To think that Greg felt he had been a disappointment was almost enough to break Grissom's resolve.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus. Greg was a case. A case that needed to be solved. Time was slowly ticking away, and with each precious second that was wasted on tears and "what if's", the chances of finding him alive grew dimmer.

_Sara, Nick, there's nothing neither of you could have done to prevent this either, so don't beat _

_yourself up over it. Things happen, it's obviously my time to go. I'm sorry it had to be this way. _

Sara sobbed, dropping her head to the table as Nick placed his hand on her back. Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried desperately to quiet herself, but found it increasingly difficult as Greg's words echoed through her grief-stricken mind. Clamping her eyes shut, she managed to quiet herself enough to hear the rest of Greg's message. This was too important for her to miss because she couldn't engage in self control.

_Sara...I love you...I've loved you from the moment I met you...Please don't forget me. _

Pushing her chair back from the table, Sara fled the room, her sobs echoing down the quiet hall until a resounding slam indicated she had found somewhere to isolate herself until she could calm down. Shooting a worried glance towards the empty doorway, Nick sighed, his heart aching as he began to think of what he could do to ease her pain.

_She's...she's coming back. I have to go. Guys, I'm so sorry this happened, I'm sorry I'm putting you through this, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say a proper goodbye. _

Greg's voice cracked over the speakers, and a single sob was heard as a door slammed open in the background, followed by a small scuffle and the sound out flesh hitting flesh. She growled loudly, and Greg let out a terrified scream.

_No!...No!_

The tape cut off, leaving a silent room in its wake. Pressing the 'Stop' button with a trembling hand, Grissom spoke softly, "Archie, see if you can isolate some background noise, try to get an approximate location. Catherine, Warrick, I want you to review the old case files, see if you can find a similar point of location with the last 9 victims. I'm going to head back out to the scene, see if we overlooked something."

"What do you want me to do?" Nick asked quietly, his eyes pained, "You aren't going to pull me off the case, are you?"

Grissom hesitated before speaking quietly, "No, no. You go check on Sara, bring her home and try to get her to eat and get some rest. Meet me at the scene once you're finished."

--

Sara flipped onto her side, a frown on her face as Greg's words echoed through her mind.

_As I sit here waiting...in my ultimatum prison cell...I can't help but wonder...Is this a test? Is has to be...I want to tell you that there is... no fault, none to blame...we're left to...push the envelope, watch it bend._

They were familiar, somehow, although she couldn't quite place them. The team was certain that he had been drugged, sedated perhaps, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something.

Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling of her dark bedroom, sighing loudly. She had heard those words before...a book, a song perhaps?

She kicked the covers off of her tired body, stumbling towards the living room. Collapsing onto the sofa, she tiredly rubbed her eyes, trying to focus. Where had she heard those phrases? They were from a song...a cd...but which one?

Reaching onto the coffee table, she lifted the heavy binder filled with Greg's multitude of cds. Flipping through them, she tried desperately to remember the tune of the music, who it possibly could have been singing. Greg had been obsessive over that particular cd. It had been a gift from his sister, and he swore it was great music to play video games by...after a night off with Nick, playing racing games, he had sang those songs for a week, unable to get them out of his head.

She flipped through the binder, one cd at a time, knowing she'd recognize it if she managed to see it. It was on the third plastic page that she recognized the monstrosity. _Tool_. Sliding the cd into the cd player, she turned it to the first song, lowering the volume as she listened to the rock lyrics.

_Is this a test? Is has to be._

"The Patient." Sara wrote onto a blank sheet of paper, "Line 3."

_Ultimatum prison cell._

"The Grudge." she printed, "Line 8."

_No fault. No one to blame._

"Schism. Line 8."

"_Push the envelope, watch it bend."_

"Lateralis. Line 6."

But why had he picked those lines? Those songs? This CD? Her head began to ache and she shakily walked into their kitchen, taking two white pills before sipping a glass of tepid water from the counter. He had been leaving them a message, but what was he trying to say?

She made her way back to the couch, sinking down onto the cushion before draping a burgundy throw blanket over her legs. Tears blurring her vision, she whispered softly, "Greg, what were you trying to tell me? I don't understand."

Rubbing her temples, she tried to remember what he had said next.

_Sometimes in life we're in the cross roads between the right way and the hard way. I think of my past...my rocky relationships with Lucy and Nancy...that feisty little tiger, Lily...Janice and Opal are definitely in my past. I've always felt that my future would be a breeze, I could view myself sitting in a country club somewhere, sitting back without a care or concern. Now I can see that I was wrong. There are always problems facing you, hidden dangers lurking around every corner. _

She bit her lip, trying to decipher the next clue in his word puzzle. Cross roads...was he alluding to where he was being kept? A path they had traveled? Or was everyone else right...had he been drugged and was just rambling on about nonsense?

She tapped the space bar on her laptop, quickly going to "Google". It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. Cross Road didn't turn up anything tangible, but after a few seconds, she located a "Cross Street" in Henderson, and decided to map it. As the screen loaded, Sara's heart began to race, a cold sweat breaking out across her body. Cross Street. Wright Way. Hard Way. Breeze Way. Opal, Lucy, Rocky, Janice, Nancy streets. Viewmont. Country Club Drive. Tiger Lily Way.

"He's telling us where he's at!" Sara shrieked to no one in particular. With shaking hands, she dialed the lab, asking to be transferred to Archie.

"Archie, it's Sara. Greg's message was coded, I think I know where he is. I need to know what he said after the part about 'hidden dangers'...can you get that for me?"

The line was silent for a few moments before Greg's voice filtered through the line.

_My beautiful Sara...please be sure to give Andy, Matthew, Isabel, Larry, Linda, Elaine, and Ryan my love. If I don't make it back to you, and I've been assured I won't, don't be afraid to move on, don't be haunted by demons of the past. I love you more than you will ever know, you're always on my mind, and I'll always be in your heart. _

"_Did you get that?"_ Archie asked anxiously, _"Grissom just stepped into a meeting with Ecklie, if you like, I could go get him for you."_

"No, no..I'll call him." Sara replied absentmindedly, "Thanks Archie."

She shut her cell, writing down the names Greg had used. Andy. Matthew. Isabel. Larry. Linda. Elaine. Ryan. Glancing down at her paper, she studied the words carefully. What could that mean? She knew neither had friends or family by those names. Tapping her pen, she shivered slightly. A. M. I. L. L. E. R. A Miller. It was a name.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, dialing information, "Henderson, Nevada. Miller, first name begins with A."

"_Alyssa Miller. 33886 Country Club Drive. Phone number is listed as (702) 564-0000_."

Clicking her phone closed, Sara exhaled deeply. Grissom was in a meeting. The others were working. From her house, it would take maybe 5 minutes to get there...backup would probably take closer to half an hour in traffic on this time of day. Throwing on the jeans and top she had discarded earlier, she grabbed her keys, he didn't have time to wait. She could call for backup once on her way.

_TBC_


	3. Messes

_Author's Notes: Hello! I'm sorry this took so incredibly long to write, I had a really hard time getting started with this chapter...then when I started writing, I had a hard time stopping. Lol. Hope you enjoy it...thanks to everyone who replied to the last bit, hope you continue to enjoy it. Please let me know what you're thinking!_

_Jenny_

**Chapter Three:**

"Stay in your car, do not step foot onto that property, do you understand me?" Grissom barked into the phone, "You have backup on the way, ETA 5 minutes. I know you're eager to get to him, but _do not_ do anything that would jeopardize your own safety. Do you understand me, Sara?"

Sara sighed angrily, banging her fist against the steering wheel, "Grissom, it's not like I don't have a gun! What if she's killing him right now? What if 5 minutes from now is too late?"

"I don't like waiting any more than you do, Sara, but you've got to hold tight until your backup arrives. Nick and I will be there shortly after PD. Do _not_ under _any_ circumstance enter the premises until you have authority to do so." Grissom warned, "Your job is on the line, Sara."

"Okay!" Sara snapped, hanging up the phone and hitting her steering wheel once more. The house was dark, but she wasn't fooled. Greg was in there, and he needed help. It was her job, her duty, her responsibility to love, honor, cherish him and most importantly, keep him safe from harm. Sitting in her car would not accomplish that.

She glanced down at her watch anxiously, wishing in vain that time would speed up, that the backup would speed up, anything that could get her to her husband sooner. Going into that house, especially alone, would compromise the case, and she was very aware of it. She had a definite conflict of interest, something the jury would eat up so fast that a conviction would be a miracle. Going in to save him herself would be a very, very bad idea. The fact that she had no warrant only served to further damage their budding case. Of course, knowing and feeling were two totally different things, and after only a few minutes of hesitation, Sara clipped her gun into her holster and made a move towards the doorway. Greg didn't have time to wait for backup, he needed help now.

She banged on the door three times, yelling, "Las Vegas Police! Open the door!"

She was met with silence, the lights not even bothering to flicker on, and after repeating her statement twice more, she reached for the doorknob, grasping it firmly and trying to turn it. As she suspected, it wouldn't budge. She knew that if she waited for the cops to arrive, they could get the door open, but she had already wasted valuable time sitting in her truck, doing nothing. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she made the decision to retain control of the situation. Using the butt of her gun, she smashed the door's window in, reaching through to unlock the door and let herself in.

After she lost her job for insubordination, she could now be tried for breaking and entering and obstruction of justice. She found herself unable to be concerned with those details, however, as she cautiously stepped into the house, her back against the wall as she shouted, "Las Vegas Police!"

It didn't take long to clear the first two rooms, searching in vain for any trace of her husband, or the person who had taken him. As she listened to the chilling silence, she could only pray she wasn't too late. She stumbled upon the kitchen next in her search for Greg, barely able to suppress her gag reflex as she noticed the stove turned on, a large pot on top of it. On the counter laid a female torso, which she could only assume came from their previous victim.

Sensing someone behind her, she spun around, her gun clasped in her trembling hands. She wasn't surprised to find no one there, she had been fighting these paranoid sensations since she had been at the crime scene, it had to be only a figment of her overactive imagination. Moving towards the next doorway, she quickly scanned the hallway, searching for any quick clues that may lead her to Greg faster...blood, smudges, anything. With a frustrated scowl, she kicked open the next door, her eyes widening and her face paling at the sight.

Bound and gagged, secured to the floor, was Greg, barely conscious and soaked in blood. She ducked into the room, looking for their suspect, relieved to find Greg the only occupant in the room. She knelt down beside him, her hands gently going for his neck to find a pulse. She was finally able to breathe again once she found his steady heartbeat, and with a quiet whisper, she promised that she'd be right back for him.

The moment she stood, she realized they weren't alone anymore, but before her brain could send the signal to her body to react, a baseball bat crashed over her skull, sending her into total blackness.

--

The first thing Grissom noticed when he pulled onto the curb at the crime scene was Sara's empty SUV.

"You don't think she--?" Nick asked worriedly, glancing towards the broken window in the doorway, "Not after you warned her--"

"It's Sara." Grissom replied flatly, the door open before the car had even rolled to a complete stop, "Who knows what was going through her head."

The two men made their way to Brass, who had arrived with his team only moments earlier. Brass nodded towards the doorway, "We've got men checking out the house right night, house appears vacant, but looks can be deceiving. We're about to head in, you guys can follow, but at a distance."

"Sara's in there." Grissom said quietly, his voice urgent, "And if she didn't come right back out, that means Greg's in there too."

Brass nodded, his jaw tight with concern, "We'll get them out, Gil, just don't go off half-cocked and get yourselves into trouble as well."

Brass turned away from the two CSIs, hurriedly walking to a group of officers who had just returned from the back of the house. Nick glanced worriedly at the dark house, asking softly, "Do you think they're okay?"

"I don't know, Nick, we're just going to have to trust their instincts and training. Neither of them would go down without a fight." Grissom replied, a nervous edge to his normally calm voice, "All we can do now is wait."

"And pray." Nick murmured, looking upwards in a silent prayer. He wasn't necessarily a religious man, but while he himself had been kidnaped he had thrown a few desperate prayers out, and he had made it out safely. Whether it was divine intervention or the skills of his colleagues that rescued him, a few extra words never hurt anything.

Time seemed to stand still as the police took their positions, making a move on the house with their guns drawn. Grissom and Nick entered the house, staying in the foyer as one by one, each room was cleared. Nick glanced towards Grissom, his back against the wall, "Should we pull our weapons, just in case?"

"Let the cops do their job, Nicky, and we'll just wait here to do ours." Grissom replied distractedly, listening to the activity bustling through the rest of the house, "If they're not here, I want this house processed top to bottom, we can call in--"

Grissom's instructions were cut off by the distinct pop of gunfire. Automatically both men reached for their guns, Nick ducking down by a nearby table while Grissom moved to the corner on the other side of the door.

"We need an ambulance!" Brass called from the back side of the house, "Greene, Brooks! Head out back! Madison, Harper! Go through the front and cut her off!"

Grissom pulled out his phone, quickly punching in some numbers and barking to the dispatcher that they would need medics at their location. As he and Nick secured their weapons, Brass called out, "Grissom! Stokes!"

Grissom and Nick cautiously made their way towards Brass's voice, fear building in both men's chests. Grissom made it to the doorway first, unable to hide his concern and fear as he saw his two CSIs bound on the floor, soaked in blood. Behind him, Nick paled at the sight, pushing past Grissom to kneel next to Greg, checking for a pulse. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his chest as he found a pulse, and he turned to his boss, who was doing the same to Sara's limp form, "He's alive."

"So is she." Grissom responded, "Untie him."

Nick went to work at once to free his friend, only to find that in addition to the ropes securing Greg's hands and arms together, nails had been placed in the skin between his thumb and index finger, fastening him to the ground. Barely able to keep back the bile rising in his throat, he turned to Grissom, "His hands are nailed to the floor."

Grissom's expression went from concern to horror as he peered behind Greg's unconscious form to validate Nick's statement. Turning to Brass, he ordered, "Jim, go get me my kit."

Grissom moved to Greg's side, using a flashlight to get a closer look at Greg's hands, while Nick took the opportunity to survey the rest of the damage to his weakened body. There were several bruises on his face, as well as a cut that ran from his left temple to the top of his right eyebrow. From the bruising around it, it appeared as if he had been struck with a sharp object. His shirt was torn, to reveal his blood-soaked chest. On his right side, a bit of flesh had been removed and haphazardly bandaged, by the amount of blood coming from the wound, Nick could tell that it was deep and new. On his left side, a smaller chunk of flesh had been removed, although the bleeding on that side had stopped.

Unable to look any closer, Nick let Grissom take over, moving to Sara's unconscious form, checking her for any injuries. A large knot had formed on the back of her skull, although there was no blood loss associated with this injury. Aside from the contusion, there appeared to be no other injuries. Squeezing her hand, he softly urged her to open her eyes. His chest ached as he stared at two of his best friends lying on the floor in front of him. How could someone do this?

He jumped as the gunfire began again, instinctively reaching for his own weapon until Grissom quietly told him to disregard the action going on outside. In the distance, sirens wailed. Nick squeezed Sara's hand once more, whispering softly, "Sara, wake up darlin', you're worrying me."

He nearly dropped her hand as she shifted slightly, and as he squeezed her hand again, he called her name a little louder, "Sara, open those eyes girl." he looked towards Grissom, "She's coming to."

"Can you bring her into another room? I don't want her to see Greg." Grissom responded, briefly glancing in their direction, "Call Catherine, ask her to get someone in here to process this place."

Nick nodded, effortlessly lifting Sara, bringing her to the living room and setting her on the sofa, unconcerned with the fact that he could be contaminating possible evidence. As he continued to hold Sara's hand, he used the other to dial Catherine's cell.

"_Willows."_

"It's Nick. We're at the house, we've got Greg."

"_How is he?"_

"He's pretty hurt, but he's alive." Nick replied, "Sara's been injured, but she's going to be okay. Grissom wants you to get someone in here to process the house."

"_Did you catch the suspect?"_

A bullet broke the window glass and Nick ducked slightly, making sure he was clear from being shot, "Uh, I'd say they're working on it."

"_Is that gunfire!"_ Catherine exclaimed,_ "Nick?"_

"I'm okay." Nick replied nervously, hesitating as he listened to the activity outside, "I think they've got her now. It's okay, they're outside, we're in."

"_That doesn't make you safe."_

"We're okay. Ambulance just got here for Greg." Nick commented, "Are you going to meet us at the hospital?"

"_Yeah, I'll call someone from days to cover the scene, I'll grab Warrick and meet you there."_ Catherine responded,_ "Nick?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Be careful."_

Nick hung up the phone, turning his attention back to Sara, who had started to moan softly. He squeezed her hand tightly, "That's it, Sara, open your eyes."

After a few moments, her eyes fluttered open, filled with terror. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she started to panic, pulling away from Nick with a yelp of fear.

"Sara? Can you hear me? It's Nick. You're okay, we're here." Nick soothed, relieved to see her start to relax.

"Nick?" Sara asked groggily, "Nicky?"

"I'm right here, you're going to be okay, you just have a nasty bump on the head." Nick replied quietly, "They caught her, you're safe."

Sara brought a hand to her aching head, asking urgently, "Greg?"

"Medics are here, he's alive, he's doing good." Nick replied, trying to calm her down as she started to grow anxious again, "He's going to be fine, Sara. You did good, you found him."

Sara's eyes drooped closed again, and Nick gently tapped her cheek, "No, no. You've got to stay awake now."

He looked up as the paramedics made their way through the room, hastily removing Greg from the house, Grissom close behind as he called out, "I'm riding with Greg, I'll meet you at the hospital."

Brass appeared next, walking towards Nick and Sara with a concerned expression, "They've dispatched another ambulance, should be here in just a few minutes. How is she?"

"She came to long enough to ask for Greg." Nick replied, "She was pretty out of it, pupils are uneven...probably just a nasty concussion."

Brass nodded, "Suspect was shot, still alive, very uncooperative."

"I heard." Nick replied quietly, looking down towards Sara as she shifted slightly, "Sara? Want to open your eyes for me?"

Sara's slowly obliged, and she began to struggle against Nick to sit up. Taking a seat beside her, he gently helped her move to a sitting position, not too surprised when she had to lean against him to balance herself.

"You have a nasty bump to the head." Nick said soothingly, "How do you feel?"

Sara blinked a few times before turning her head to stare at Nick, "What? Oh..." She paused, rubbing her forehead with a frown, "My head hurts."

Nick squeezed her hand, concerned by the slight slur of her voice, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Greg..." Sara moaned, her eyes widening slightly as she turned to Nick, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, he's on his way to the hospital." Nick soothed, "What do you remember?"

"I came in...I broke the law, I'm going to go to jail." Sara muttered softly, trying to organize her thoughts, "I looked for Greg, but I didn't find him right away."

"What did you see?" Nick asked quietly, exchanging a nervous glance with Brass as he listened to Sara's patchy memory of what had taken place, "Can you remember?"

Sara pulled away from Nick, her face paling rapidly as she wrapped her arms around her waist, trembling slightly. "Yes."

"What happened, Sara?" Brass asked quietly.

Sara's head shot towards the detective, obviously surprised to see him standing there. She moaned as her head began to throb harder, and she brought one hand to the back of her head, lightly touching the tender spot. "She was hiding, I didn't see her... She was cooking... I thought someone was there, but I didn't see her."

"Cooking?" Nick asked, looking up towards Brass for confirmation. The older man shrugged, and Nick glanced up towards the kitchen, "Did she hit you in the kitchen?"

"No." Sara replied, grimacing as the ambulance sirens caused her headache to spike, "I was with Greg."

She moaned softly, her hand shakily moving back to her abdomen, "Nick, I feel sick."

"You've got a concussion." Nick soothed, "You'll be okay."

"Nicky, she was eating bits of Greg."

_TBC_


	4. Memories

_Author's Notes: Thanks to Emmithar for her help and suggestions. Girl, you're the best. Also a huge thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing faithfully, it makes this story a pleasure to write. Please let me know what you're thinking!_

_Jenny_

**Chapter Four:**

"Easy does it." Sara whispered soothingly, her arm around Greg's waist as she gently eased him from their car, "Take it slow, we've got all the time in the world."

Greg scowled and tried to push her hands away, "I'm sore, not crippled."

"Stop being stubborn." Sara chastised, finally able to get him to his feet, softly groaning as she tried to support both of their weight on her slender frame, "If you want to do it on your own, you can try...but I don't want to hear you complain when you hurt yourself and have to go back to the hospital."

Greg frowned in response, allowing his wife to slowly lead him towards the front door, feeling helpless and weak despite the painkillers and antidepressants the doctor had given him before he was discharged. It wasn't that he hated being doted on, or needing the help--that was always Sara's pet peeve--the thing that bothered him the most was that it was his wife doing all of these things for him. He firmly believed that it was the husband's place to care for the wife, not the other way around, and Sara definitely needed some doting on as well.

She had been kept overnight in the hospital for observation after being diagnosed with a grade three concussion and bruised ribs, and the moment she was released, she had perched herself next to Greg's bed, refusing to leave until he was released two days later. Even though she hadn't complained, Greg could tell she was still feeling pretty run down and sore, he'd be willing to bet that she was still suffering with a miserable headache.

They slowly approached the door and Sara fished in her pockets for the house key, "I asked Nick to come by and get some things situated for us, that way I don't have to leave to go to the store. He's filled all of your prescriptions, and he's gotten the bedside table set up as a station to change your bandages and clean your--your--injuries."

She quickly averted her eyes to the lock, her hand shaking as she fumbled with the house key. Greg didn't fail to notice her voice faltering, and with a worried frown, he stared at her trembling hands as she struggled to get the door open. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and steady her hand, to reassure her that he was alive, that she had saved him, but the extensive bandaging on his palms made it difficult and painful to touch anything. Instead, he leaned his head against her shoulder, quietly whispering for her to take a deep breath and calm down.

A few moments later, the door was opened and she carefully led Greg inside, easing him onto the couch before declaring that she was going to get his painkillers from the bedroom. She quickly retreated to the bedroom, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Leaning his head back, Greg let his eyes briefly fall closed, fatigue overrunning his entire body. His injuries hadn't been too extensive, several dozen stitches inside and out had fixed his hands, and staples were holding the three wounds closed where Alyssa had done the most damage. A slight shudder ripped through his sore body, and he softly moaned as the involuntary action sent a surge of pain through his tender muscles.

The phone rang, and Greg groaned at the shrill noise, slowly maneuvering himself into a laying position on their worn out sofa. He wasn't sure how long Sara would be, and even though he'd been in a drug induced stupor for days, he found himself unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

--

Sara collapsed onto the bed, deciding not to even bother with the covers or her clothes. The only thing she wanted to do was sleep, something she hadn't been able to do since this whole ordeal started. Within minutes of closing her eyes, her body relaxed enough to allow herself to succumb to her dreams.

_Sara walked through the open doorway, nervously glancing in all directions before checking each room, one by one. The living room was first, where she found a blood stain on the sofa where she and Nick had been huddled together a few days prior. Making her way down the corridor, she stopped in the kitchen, shivering as she remembered the woman's torso which had been sitting by the stove. _

_Curiosity got the best of her as she took a step into the room, slowly making her way to the counter. Turning the remains of the body over, she let out a terrified yell. This was definitely not their previous victim, it was too masculine to be their unidentified blonde. Peering into the pot on the stove, she let out another shriek, gagging as she came face to face with the distorted, bloated face of her husband. _

_Slamming the lid down on the pot, she backed towards the doorway, her entire body violently trembling as this revelation started to sink in. Greg was dead. She was going to eat him. Greg was dead. She was going to eat him. Greg was dead. She was going to eat him. _

_A tidal wave of fear flooded through her weary body as she came into contact with something warm and soft. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Greg's kidnapper. The woman grabbed Sara by the hair, pulling her out of the room and into the hallway as Sara violently protested the attack. _

"_We'll need to get a little meat on your bones first...don't worry, by the time I'm ready for you, you won't be able to feel pain anymore."_

_As Sara froze in horror, the woman began to emit bone chilling laughter. This was it. This was how she was going to die. No one was going to save her, just as no one had saved Greg. _

--

Greg awoke with a start, ripped from his hellish dreams by a bone chilling scream. His heart racing and his head pounding, he forced himself to sit up and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

Another scream tore through the house, causing Greg to realize that it hadn't been his own nightmare that had roused him from sleep, but apparently Sara's. Worry and fear gripped his heart as he swung his legs over the couch, slowly trying to stand. He had to check on Sara, he had to wake her up, otherwise she'd wake up in a frenzied panic. It was part of his duties as her husband to hold her close and soothe her fears, it made him feel good to know that he was able to calm her down when she was nearly inconsolable.

He sank back onto the couch, his face contorted in pain as he felt the stabbing pain in his side return. How was he going to get to her if he could barely walk on his own? What kind of husband couldn't be there to provide some sort of support for his wife?

Another shriek filled the air, followed by a loud thud. The house was eerily silent until the bathroom light flipped on and the sounds of vomiting filled the air. Greg closed his eyes, trying in vain to get back on his feet. He couldn't let her suffer alone, especially since her haunting dreams were likely a result of the agony he had put her through.

He struggled to get on his feet, grimacing with every shaky step he took. He hadn't made it far before a wave of pain-induced dizziness overtook him, sending him right back to the couch, where he had started. He held his breath for a moment, tears stinging his eyes as the sounds of his wife's sobs echoed through the house. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, hold her in his arms and soothe away her pain.

He let his left hand fall to his side, where the staples suturing his wound were throbbing painfully. His eyes closed as he drew in a shaky breath, his heart aching as Sara's sobs pierced his ears. Just a few days ago, they were laying in bed, talking about what to do on their vacation. Now, they were as distant as strangers in this lonely house, both alone in the same hell.

--

Sara crept into the living room, wiping away any traces of tears from her face, just in case Greg was awake. He had gone through so much already, she didn't need to add her fears to the ones she was certain he already had. She had gotten the better deal out of the abduction, she got to find the clues and put together the puzzle, she was in the comfort of their home while Greg was being mutilated and tortured. She came out with only a few bumps and bruises, while Greg came out the broken shell of her husband. There was no way she'd give him anything else to worry about on top of his own problems, it was the least she could do.

She was relieved to find him asleep on the sofa, a slight grimace on his face as his hand rested on the deepest of his wounds. Softly placing her lips on his forehead, she struggled to hold back a fresh wave of tears. What would she have done without him? How would she have lived if he had died? Sniffling softly, she reached for the green throw blanket they always used to cuddle with on the sofa, and tucked him in gently before running her fingers through his hair.

"I love you." she whispered hoarsely, placing another kiss on his forehead as she contemplated sleeping on the floor beside him.

The decision was made for her as the phone started to ring, the shrill noise causing her headache to stab a bit stronger. Gently rubbing the tender spot on her head, she moved towards the kitchen, grabbing the cordless phone with a loud whisper, "Hello?"

"_Sara, it's Grissom. I'm sorry to bother you at home, but I didn't get an answer on your cell..."_

Sara quickly moved towards her bedroom, gently shutting the door behind her so she wouldn't disturb Greg, "Sorry, I guess I forgot to turn it on after leaving the hospital. What's up?"

"_How's Greg?"_

"Sleeping." Sara replied, sitting down on the bed with a heavy sigh, "He's still a bit worn out, but he's definitely getting better."

"_Do you think it would be possible for you to come in for a bit? Catherine's out for the night, she had to bring Lindsey to the Children's Center...they think it's her appendix. Nick was slated off for tonight, and I can't reach him to pull him in."_

Sara sighed, rubbing her head once more. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before responding, "Okay, I can, but not all night, I want to be back before Greg wakes up."

"_Thank you, I just need your help getting things started, if it looks to be slow, you can leave."_

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

Sara pushed the "off" button on the phone, letting herself fall onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Greg was asleep, and after the nightmare she had experienced, she definitely wasn't going to be sleeping tonight. A few hours of work would be okay...it would get her mind off of everything that was going on, it would be therapeutic to be actually doing _something_.

Stifling a yawn, she tossed the phone on the bed, making her way to the laundry room. She had hung some work clothes up the night before Greg was kidnaped, and she knew they'd still be there, waiting. She silently changed in the laundry room before heading into the kitchen to fix Greg a snack...if he did wake up, she didn't want him digging around for food instead of resting.

Once sure that Greg was situated well enough for her to leave, she jotted a quick note saying she'd have her phone on, and quietly slipped out of the house, leaving her weary husband alone to his rest.

--

"_Now don't fight me, little guy." Alyssa Miller spoke in a chilling voice, "I don't want you to die just yet, and any sudden moves can cause irreparable damage."_

"_Please, let me go!" Greg begged, silenced quickly by a strong slap. He bit down on his quivering lip, wondering if he'd ever see his friends and family again. Would it hurt to have his head cut off? Did they even realize he was missing yet? Would they be able to decipher his clues in time to save him?_

_Alyssa knelt down in front of him, ignoring his pleas as she began to poke and prod him. Settling on his side, she slide her knife over his soft skin, grinning as the dark blood spilled onto his skin and clothes. "We need to get some more meat on your bones, you're not nearly tender enough."_

_He watched in horror as she slid the bit of flesh into her mouth, her eyes closing as she began to chew. He turned his head away, partly to keep from becoming ill, partly to try and block out a memory he was sure would haunt him forever. _

_This was it. This was how he was going to die. They'd only find leftovers once they figured out where he was. _

_She moved the knife to his other side, instructing him quietly, "Open your mouth."_

"_No." Greg protested before clamping his jaws shut tightly, a deep frown on his pale face. He shut his eyes, turning his head away from her once more, praying that she'd just leave him alone. He'd rather bleed out than follow any plan she was concocting. _

_She jerked his head forward and he began to protest, the sliver of his skin in his mouth before he realized what was going on. Choking and gagging, he tried in vain to spit it out, his stomach churching and his heart racing. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be real. _

_Laughter filled his ears as Alyssa taunted him to chew and swallow, the room spinning around him in dizzying circles. As he was enveloped into darkness, the only sound he was able to focus on was the insane laughter coming from his captive, chilling him to the bone. _

Greg's eyes snapped open, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to block out the flashes of his imprisonment that loitered in the shadows of his dreams. His chest ached as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding faster than he had ever felt it beat before. He could feel himself growing weak as he tried to overcome the panic attack that had overtaken him.

"Sara..." he wheezed, hoping somehow he'd get her attention. The house remained still and silent. Where was she? Why wasn't she coming to help him?

Spots danced before his eyes and he fell back against the couch, limp, as the world faded around him.

_TBC _


	5. Monsters

_Author's Notes: Hello readers. As some of you are aware, there is a good possibility, that after I finish my current stories, I will no longer continue to post on It's a very hard decision to make, under the circumstances in which I am currently faced with, but I promise I won't leave anything unfinished if I do decide to go elsewhere. If anyone is interested in the particulars you may visit my profile for updates. I do want to promise readers that I won't abandon my current stories, despite my fleeting desire to do so. _

_It's been awhile since my last update, and for that I apologize...I'm back on a roll with this story, though, this chapter was a nightmare to write! I hope it will be smoother sailing from here. Reviews help. Lol. That's my shameless review plug for this chapter. _

_For those of you easily grossed out...warning. :P. _

_I was too impatient (imagine that) for my beta to finish her own stressful day at work and check over this for me, so I'm flying solo on this. All mistakes you find (and some are quick to jump to tell you how many mistakes I do make) are mine. I can't even guarantee that I've proofread the entire chapter... _

_Jenny_

**Chapter Five:**

"_This isn't over! I **will** be back!"_

Greg awoke with a start, the room spinning around him as he struggled to take a breath. It took him a few seconds to become aware of his surroundings, and once he realized he was in no immediate danger, he allowed himself to sink back onto the couch, closing his eyes as his airways relaxed and he was able to finally inhale deeply.

"Sara?" He called out weakly, his head pounding as every muscle in his body began to ache. Clearing his throat, he called again, louder, "Sara?"

Tears threatened to force their way to the surface as he listened in vain for any sign that she was coming. After a few minutes passed, he let his eyes close with a moan. It was getting past time for his pain medication, and as shaky as he felt, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it to the kitchen counter without hurting himself even more.

He sighed, grimacing as the simple action caused his side to ache. He had to get to his medication, there was no way he could deal without it right now. With one hand gently holding his side, he forced himself into a sitting position, sweat glistening on his forehead as he bit back a yelp of pain.

It was then that he spotted the two little pink pills sitting on a plate next to a sandwich. Beside them was a folded sheet of white paper with his name on the outside. With a frown, he unfolded the paper, trying to get his unfocused eyes to concentrate on the messy cursive writing.

"_Greg, I had to go in to work for a bit. I left your medication and a snack out for you, try to lay down and take it easy. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love--Sara."_

Greg sighed again, tossing the note to the table as he placed the two pills on his tongue, reaching for the bottle of water she had left on the table. It was still cool, she couldn't have been gone for too long. With a groan, he sifted through the papers on the coffee table, searching for the remote. The house was too dark and too quiet for his liking, he needed something to keep his mind occupied, to help him forget about his abduction.

He frowned as he was met with a blank screen, a small blinking light on the bottom of the screen reading "Searching for satellite signal."He tossed the remote back onto the table with a scowl, suddenly angry at Sara for leaving him. He was stuck in this apartment, confined to the couch, and there was absolutely nothing to do besides sleep. While on any normal day, Greg would welcome the opportunity to sleep the hours away, right now sleep only meant that Alyssa's face would dominate his dreams once again.

He reached for the sandwich, his anger at his wife fading slowly as he realized just how hungry he felt. It would have been easy for her just to leave, but she had gone to the trouble of making sure he'd be taken care of...sometimes he was still surprised at how she always knew exactly what he would need.

He brought the sandwich to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a huge bite. His stomach growled, and he greedily took another bite, barely chewing the first before swallowing it. He opened his eyes, staring down at the sandwich. His appetite had been lacking since his rescue, but now he was starting to think it was only because of the unappetizing hospital food.

He brought the sandwich to his lips once more, but stopped as he glanced down at the meat sitting between the two slices of wheat bread. It was the same as he usually ate, deli-sliced chicken on wheat with lettuce and cheese, but as he stared at the slivers of beige meat, all he could imagine was Alyssa peeling back his skin, holding it to his face, forcing him to chew.

With more energy than he had possessed in days, he tossed the sandwich to the table, propelling himself off of the couch, despite the tremendous pain that surged through his wounds. He made it only as far as the kitchen sink before emptying his stomach, using a nearby cup to rinse his mouth out repeatedly, unable to rid himself of the taste of flesh.

He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, but couldn't calm down as the images of Alyssa and her victims began to flash before him. Suddenly he found himself at their last crime scene, staring at the severed head of Alyssa's last victim. Her last murder victim, at least. Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance? What would happen if they couldn't get a conviction? If she escaped from prison? Would she come back for him?

He slammed the glass down on the counter, angry at himself for letting this bother him so badly. It was the past, you can't change the past, you just have to move forward. But what would happen if he couldn't? It had been years since the lab explosion, and he still sometimes felt jittery when he remembered it. He had thought moving to the field would be easier, but now he had this to deal with. Was he safe anywhere?

He grabbed the glass, filling it with water once more, trying in vain to get the fleshy taste from his mouth. Three glasses of water later, he tossed the glass against the wall, shockingly pleased as it shattered into hundreds of pieces as it came in contact with their tile floor. He laughed dryly at the irony. The glass was broken into unrecognizable pieces, just like he felt. He shook his head bitterly, stepping over the glass as he made his way to the bathroom. He took a shot of mouthwash, rinsing out the awful taste in his mouth and replacing it with a strong mint.

A strong mint flesh.

He forced back a gag, wondering if he would ever be normal again. He glanced up into the mirror, frowning at his appearance. If he was to venture outside, people would think he was the boogeyman, coming after their children. His face was unusually pale, his eyes framed by dark, deep circles. His hair fell limply around his face, plastered into place by sweat. Even his lips didn't look as if they belonged to him.

And to top it off, he couldn't help but feel like bits of skin were caught in his teeth.

As if it wasn't enough for him to look like death warmed over, he now was going insane. He felt his resolve slowly start to chip away as his body was wracked with painful sobs. He sank to the floor in the hallway, his sides aching painfully as they were jostled with each cry he uttered.

If he couldn't make it through one hour alone, how would he be able to survive the rest of his life?

It didn't take long for him to cry himself out, and as he sat sprawled out on the floor, he knew some changes had to be made. He couldn't live his life in fear of the unknown, if not for himself, then for his wife. Sara couldn't see him like this, she couldn't see how weak and pathetic he had become.

He forced himself to his feet, all too aware of his injuries as his previous adrenaline wore away, leaving him to struggle through every painful step of his journey back to the couch.

He had made it to the living room entrance when he heard a scratching noise outside of their apartment. His heart began to race, but before he could overreact, the side of his brain still thinking rationally forced him to calm down. The noise could be anything, there was no reason to jump to conclusions.

"_I will be back._"

Alyssa's voice echoed through his weary mind and he felt his heart rate begin to rise once more. What if Sara had been called in to work because Alyssa had escaped? She wouldn't have left him alone if it hadn't been important. What if Alyssa was hunting him down at this very moment?

The noise continued, and he backed against the living room wall, unable to stop the fear growing in his chest. His chest felt constricted as he struggled to fight off another panic attack, sweat beading against his forehead. He shakily wiped his brow, trying to remain as quiet as possible. How could she possibly know where he lived? How likely was it that she had escaped from jail? He had to be overreacting.

His eyes flew to the door handle as it began to jiggle, and as a wave of fear coursed through him so strongly that he felt he was going to pass out, he rushed towards the first place he could think of, the hall closet. His side burned, and as his shirt began to stick against his skin, he realized he must have torn his stitching. None of it mattered, though, as he sank into the dark corner of the closet, trying to remain still and quiet. She couldn't find him, it wasn't an option.

He heard the door swing open, and subconsciously held his breath in anticipation. This was it, this was how he was going to die. She was coming back to finish what she started. Clenching his fists tightly, he prayed this was all a dream and he would wake up and find all of this was not real.

"Greg? Where are you?"

The room started to spin around him as the voice echoed through his ears. Gone was the dark security of the closet, it was now replaced with a dingy house, a nail pinning him to the floorboards. The smell of cooking flesh assaulted his nostrils, and he reflexively gagged, bringing his hand to his face to try and block out the images. He could smell the smoke in his abductor's blonde hair, and he could hear her voice calling to him. He was trapped, he was alone. He'd be dead before anyone ever arrived to rescue him.

"Greg! What are you doing in here?"

He looked up, his eyes unfocused and distressed. She looked different, but he'd know her anywhere. She was coming to finish him off. To kill him. To eat him. She had him trapped, there was nowhere left to go. He had to fight back, this time, he had to fight back. He flew to his feet, ignoring the nearly-disabling pain that came with the action, and lunged towards her, "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!"

"Greg!" She shrieked, taking a step backwards, "What's going on?"

"I won't let you! Not again! I said to leave me alone!" Greg yelled, blindly throwing punches as he tried in vain to escape from the arms of his captor, "Why do you keep doing this to me!" He finally got a good grip on her arm, and he twisted it behind her back, hissing angrily, "I'm going to make you pay."

He felt his fear diminish and his confidence grow as he realized he now held the upper hand. His left arm went around her neck, and he hissed angrily, "You can't get away with what you've done."

He felt tears fall onto his arms, and he now knew he was in control. Tightening his grasp, he continued to whisper harshly in her ear, "Give me one good reason right now why I shouldn't kill you."

"Greg, please let me go." she sobbed, her small body shaking under his hold. "Please Greg, you're hurting me. Please."

The words struck him deep inside and it was as if the fog surrounding his brain clear instantly. No longer was he in Alyssa's house, winning the fight, but back in his own apartment, his wife sobbing as he held her in a death grip.

He released her as if he had been burned, and through a dizzy haze he backed away, his heart fluttering wildly. He had just attacked his wife. He had hurt her, he had made her cry, he had hit her. He had never laid his hand on a woman in his entire life, and here he was, harming the one person he had promised to care for no matter what.

His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do next.

He had to fix this.

He took a step towards her, holding out his hand, "Oh God, Sara, I'm so sorry. Please...I...I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what I was doing. Oh God, Sara, please--"

"Don't touch me!" She shrieked, backing away from Greg as he approached her.

The moment her words touched his ears, he froze. She sounded so nervous, so scared...he had done this to her. What kind of monster was he? He looked down at his bandaged hands, and watched as they began to tremble. He had lost his sense of security, his stability, was he going to lose his wife too?

"Sara, please." He asked desperately, his eyes red with unshed tears, "Please, let me explain--"

"Greg, please just...Just stay away from me."

He heard the tremble in her voice, but found himself unable to meet her gaze as his heart dropped. How was he ever going to make it through this without Sara's support?

_TBC_

_I don't know how much of this makes sense...I tend to think on a different planet sometimes (right Emmithar?)...so if I've lost you, feel free to let me know and I'll try to straighten you out. Lol. _


	6. Managing

_Author's Notes: Thanks to all who read (and reviewed) chapter five, sorry it took me so long to get this together! This story just doesn't want to be written. This chapter's a bit boring, but necessary to further along the rest of the story. Thanks to Emmithar for convincing me not to delete the whole story. No one's beta-ed this for me, so all mistakes are mine. _

_Please let me know if you're still reading and what you think!_

_Jenny_

**Chapter Six:**

Sara sank onto her bed, her hands shaking as she covered her face, trying to quiet the sobs she couldn't hold in. She knew it was unfair to Greg for her to walk away when he obviously was in pain, in need of help, but she couldn't face him right now. Her heart raced as she wiped away her tears, taking in ragged, desperate gulps of air in order to calm herself down. This wasn't the past, it wasn't her parents...this was Greg, he'd never intentionally hurt her. He didn't know what he was doing.

Any normal, good, caring wife would be trying to calm him down. Instead, she was hiding in her room, wishing that this would all go away. As much as she was frantic with worry over her husband, she couldn't get the images of his uncontrollable rage out of her mind. If she hadn't of somehow gotten through to him, what would he have done to her? What if this continued? What if he wouldn't get help for it? What if she wound up in an abusive situation similar to the one she had escaped so many years ago?

The room spun around her as she stood, and she sank back into the bed, disabled by fear, overwhelmed by tears. Comparing Greg to her father would be completely ridiculous, the only similarity they shared was that they were both men. Greg was never violent, never out of control, this was the first time he had even raised his voice to her. Usually it was the other way around, she was much more likely to fly off the handle. So why couldn't she trust him? Why couldn't she walk back into the living room and make sure he hadn't had a complete nervous breakdown?

She forced herself to her feet, taking several deep breaths to try and steady her nerves. She couldn't just sit here and have an internal battle, she had to fix this before she hurt Greg even more than he was already hurting. He needed her, she couldn't let him down.

Her entire body shook as she unlocked the bedroom door, slowly creaking it open and peering into the hall. Her heart ached as she found Greg leaning against the wall, his hand on their bedroom door as he slept.

She turned to glance at the clock, cringing when she realized she had been absorbed in her own thoughts for nearly an hour now. It was clear he was still weak and drained from his ordeal, the last thing he needed was to be subjecting his achy muscles to the hard wooden floor. Taking a steadying breath, she knelt down beside him, shaking his shoulder gently, "Greg? You can't sleep out here, sweetie, wake up."

Greg stirred softly, barely opening his eyes as he moaned her name. Shaking him harder, she called his name louder, "Greg, baby, lets get you into bed."

It took several more tries before she managed to get him coherent enough to stand and stumble to the bed, and before she could even get him covered, he was lightly snoring. She laid down beside him on the bed, propping her head up with her elbow as she stared at the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. No, he would never hurt her, he'd die before he'd actually harm her. She could only imagine how he felt, how she'd react if she was in his shoes.

How could she hold him responsible for his actions when he was trapped inside of a living nightmare? All of the pain, the fear, the uncertainty she felt...he must be feeling it a hundred times worse. It was illogical and senseless to even begin to feel threatened by his actions, she needed to be soothing and comforting, not yelling and making him feel even worse about himself. What would she have done if he had died?

Kissing him lightly on the forehead, she silently vowed to try and be more understanding. She couldn't oppose him right now, not when he needed her the most. She curled up beside him, careful not to aggravate any of his injuries, and stared at his chest as it slowly rose and fell. How could she be scared of him when he looked so harmless? So fragile? She knew the next few weeks, probably even months, would be difficult, but for now, she could close her eyes and pretend nothing had happened. No matter what they were facing, they could overcome it if they worked together.

--

Sara awoke with a start, her breathing rapid and shallow as the image of Greg choking her to death stood fresh in her mind, courtesy of her latest nightmare. Shakily bringing a hand to her forehead, she whispered softly, "It's just a dream, just a dream."

Her first instinct was to throw her covers off and flee to the living room, where she could bury herself in a bit of work or some television documentary, but using all of her self control, she shut her eyes once more and laid back down against her pillow. She had to stop running from her problems, it wouldn't be fair to Greg for him to wake up alone if he needed something.

She shivered slightly, inching closer to Greg's side of the bed, only to find it uninhabited. With a worried sigh, she rolled out of bed and stretched slightly, wondering where her husband could possibly be in the middle of the night. She was certain she would have heard him get up, and in his condition, he couldn't have gone too far.

She found him in the living room, sitting on the sofa and staring blankly at the television. With a frown, she sat down beside him, surprised to see he flinched when she moved her hand to cover his.

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy."

Sara's frown deepened at his cold tone, her voice soft after a moment of hesitation, "Because you do realize you're watching the Disney channel, right?"

"What's wrong with Disney?" Greg replied, a hint of a smile lightening his features, "Not all of us are Court TV junkies like you are."

Sara nudged his shoulder lightly, deciding to play along and try to loosen him up a bit, "Disney isn't bad, but 'High School Musical' is."

"It's a great story." Greg countered, "You liked 'Rent', right? It's sort of like that, except without the drugs, the AIDS, the blatant homosexuality..."

"So, in other words, they sing?" Sara teased, "That's why it's called 'High School _Musical_'..." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I was disappointed that you weren't there when I woke up."

Greg shrugged, turning his attention to the television as his smile faded into a grimace, "I didn't think you'd want me there."

"Listen, Greg..." Sara began, her voice trembling slightly as her anxiety began to grow, "About earlier...I probably overreacted a bit..."

Greg shook his head firmly, refusing to meet her gaze, "No, you didn't do anything wrong. It was me, I--"

"You can't beat yourself up over this." Sara pleaded, squeezing his hand tightly, "Yeah, it wasn't the best move. Yeah, I didn't react well...but dwelling on it won't really fix anything, will it? We need to move forward--"

Greg pulled his hand out of her grasp, clenching it into a fist as it began to tremble, "No, don't try to smooth this over. When you were a kid, and your Dad was abusing you and your mother, I bet she tried to smooth it over many times, to make excuses, to find reasons for his behavior. In the end, it didn't change what he did, it just tried to justify it. I'm not going to let you do that Sara, I made a mistake, I have to own up to it."

"Greg, you've been through a lot, I can't expect you to just come out of it with a smile. You're a strong, brave, terrific man, but you aren't superman. I expect you to hurt, I expect you to lash out, I expect you to have problems moving forward. God, Greg, that woman was a monster. She was worse than a monster...and the moment I came in this apartment, I knew that something was wrong with you. I knew you weren't in the right frame of mind, but I couldn't stop myself from..I don't even know what to call it...the survival instinct? I reacted badly, which only made the situation worse...I shouldn't have pushed you away, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm really sorry I let you down, Greg."

Greg turned to Sara, finally letting himself look into her teary brown eyes, and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly despite the pain it sent to his wounds, "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but--"

His sentence was cut off by the shrill ring of Sara's cell phone, which laid on the coffee table in front of them. Sara glanced towards it, then back at Greg with a questioning gaze. With a slight nod, Greg whispered, "Get it, it could be important."

"Sidle."

"_Sara, this is Grissom...I need you in _right now_. I know you've only been home a few hours, and you wanted to stay with Greg, but this can't wait."_

"What's going on?" Sara asked, unable to stop the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had made it perfectly clear when she left that she couldn't be bothered unless it was an emergency. For Grissom to sound so nervous over the phone, it had to be something horrible.

"_I'll explain when you get here, just hurry."_

Before Sara could ask any more questions, he had hung up, leaving her filled with worry and dread. With an apologetic smile to Greg, she slowly rose to her feet, "Grissom--"

"I understand." Greg replied, cutting her off, "We can talk when you get home." He glanced down at his hands with a nervous chuckle, "I promise I won't attack you when you come home this time."

Her heart slowly breaking, Sara placed a worried kiss on Greg's head, "We'll talk when I get back. I won't be long."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I fully intend to keep this one." Sara whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Greg replied, trying not to sound bothered by the thought of being home alone, "I'll get some sleep, watch some tv, you know...enjoy my time off work while you're slaving away for the lab."

Sara shook her head sadly, searching for her shoes, "I swear, I'll hurry back." she glanced over her shoulder, a small smile tugging on her lips, "After this movie, change it to adult programming...if I come home and you're watching 'Dora the Explorer', I'm filing for divorce."

"Spoilsport." Greg teased in response, tossing Sara her keys, "Be careful."

"Always." Sara replied, "Love you."

"Love you too."

The door clicked shut behind Sara, and Greg let his head drop to the back of the couch, a loud sigh escaping his lips. It was one thing, being awake and knowing Sara was sleeping just a few feet away. Alone, with no one to keep him calm? To keep him safe? He wasn't sure how he'd make it until she returned home.

--

"Oh, great, you're here." Grissom spoke as Sara entered the locker room, "We need to talk. Come with me to my office."

"Do I need to get my--"

"No, just follow me."

Sara's anxiety grew as she followed a fast-paced Grissom to his office. As he shut the door behind him, she felt her heart plummet into her stomach. Whatever this was, it had to be major.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked, tapping her fingers nervously against the arm of the chair, "What's going on?"

Grissom handed Sara a thick manilla folder, a heavy frown pulling on his face, making him seem years older than he actually was. With a sigh, he spoke in a tense, tight voice, "Alyssa Miller was released on bail tonight."

"What?" Sara yelled, jumping to her feet, flinging the folder back at Grissom, "That's impossible, they don't release people suspected of _murder_ on bail!"

Grissom motioned for her to sit, but she ignored him, anxiously pacing the room, occasionally glancing up at him with a questioning gaze.

"Sara, we didn't have enough to prove she killed anyone. The most we could do was charge her with kidnaping, assault, and unlawful disposal of a human body. She made a call and someone showed up with the money to bail her out. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Sara shrieked, woozy from the burst of adrenaline that had spurred from Grissom's statement, "That doesn't help Greg, does it? That crazy woman could be at our apartment as we speak! She could be planning to finish the job she started. You know as well as I do that she killed those people!"

"I know, but we couldn't provide solid proof, at least to the district attorney's standards, for him to file charges. Brass is going to put people on your apartment, we're going to get a restraining order. Nick, Warrick, and Catherine are on their third shift trying to find something else on her. I just wanted you to be aware of what's going on--"

Grissom was cut off by the notes from 'La Cucharacha' coming from his pocket. With a growl, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, answering, "Grissom" He was silent for a few moments before answering "Okay, we'll be right there."

He hung up, his face ashen as he moved towards the door, "It's Greg, we've got to go."

**_TBC_**


	7. Misdemeanors

_Author's Notes: Wow guys, I'm so sorry for abandoning this story for so long! It's been a very hectic fall/winter, filled with grad school, illness, career changes, and all sorts of other stressors…but I'm back!! Hopefully there's a few of you still reading. And I cross my heart, updates will be more frequent…even if it means writing out chapters during boring lectures this upcoming semester. :D. _

_Please, please let me know if you're still reading this, and if you want me to continue. Updates of my other stories should be coming along within the next few days…_

_And if the Saints make it through this round of the NFL playoffs in tomorrow night's game, I solemnly swear I'll update every WIP –at least- once next week, possibly more. Lol, so send happy thoughts to the team, we've never made it through a playoff round in the history of the team, we're way overdue. :D_

_Reviews make happy writers. Happy writers make quick updaters._

_Jenny_

**Chapter Seven:**

"There's nothing I can do."

Though his voice seemed apologetic, Sara couldn't help but feel that if it had been anyone else in Greg's shoes, Grissom would have been a little more useful. He had always been tough on the ex-lab tech, a lot tougher than he had ever been on any of the others. At first it had seemed he wanted to challenge the younger man, but in light of the current situation, Sara was beginning to think maybe Grissom had been planning on letting Greg fall behind from the beginning.

Of course, her point of view was a little biased, but knowing that didn't make Grissom's statement any less painful.

Running her hand through her long brown hair, Sara exhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment while trying to get her emotions in check. This wasn't the time to fall apart, right now; Greg needed her to be calm, cool, and sane. If only it was that easy….calm or hysterical, Grissom was right. There was nothing they could do.

She glanced down at her hands, noticing the angry red marks where her fingernails had dug into her skin on the drive from the lab. These hands were her lifeline, the thing that enabled her to do her job, her passion. On the left ring finger was a simple wedding band, something that couldn't be easily damaged at a crime scene. On the third knuckle of her right hand, a faded scar from the day they had moved into this very apartment. In the process of maneuvering the oversized dresser through the tiny door, she had ripped a good deal of skin off of her hand. With a slight smile, she remembered how Greg had made a big deal about putting a band aid on it, telling her it was her first battle scar of married life.

If only things had been able to remain so simple.

"I'm going to go talk to Lieutenant Anderson." Sara mumbled, barely able to meet Grissom's eye as she pushed past him. It wasn't his fault that things were going downhill so rapidly, but it felt good to be able to snub _someone_.

She met up with Lt. Anderson, who was talking to two patrol officers, both of which kept glancing in the general direction of their squad car every few seconds. As she approached, both officers mumbled an excuse to walk away, leaving Sara face to face with the man who was bringing her husband into custody.

Both were silent for a moment, before Anderson spoke, "When I got the call, I knew he was one of us…I mean, we all heard what happened with that psycho."

Sara nodded, waiting for the man to continue. By the deep look of guilt spread across his face, it was clear he needed to get something off of his chest. As the older man struggled for the right words to use, Sara felt her anger begin to melt, despite the promise she had made herself not to go soft and give in without a fight. The moment that car pulled away, a report would be filed, and Greg would definitely lose his job, regardless of how this chaos played out.

"I talked to the girl, but she's just a kid…barely 18. She was very shaken, and before I could try and reason with her, she was on the phone with her Dad, who was conference calling their lawyer before she even had the whole story out. She's determined to press charges, and he's admitted to assaulting her…I don't have a choice."

Sara let her eyes close as she took another deep breath. With the threat of legal intervention, there really was nothing they could do. It was the LVPD's job to apprehend people who committed crimes. And right now, all of the evidence indicated that Greg had committed a crime.

"The sheriff is on our backs constantly to keep the department out of the news, it's going to be bad enough that one our own guys was arrested for assaulting a young woman, it would be ten times worse if the media got wind that we tried to placate the victim and cover it up."

"I understand." Sara replied, her voice thick with fatigue and tears. He was right, as much as she hated it. "Can I see him?"

Anderson hesitated for a moment before his shoulders slacked and he motioned for her to follow him to where the other officers were waiting. Opening the car door, he motioned for the other two officers to follow him a few feet away to give the couple their privacy. Sara flashed him a grateful smile as she silently thanked the higher beings that police courtesy extended to the crime lab in this instance.

"I really screwed up."

Sara's heart broke at his dejected tone, and she squatted to be eye level with the empty shell that was once her husband, "You've been through a lot."

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm really losing it, Sara. I just don't know what I'm doing anymore."

His voice cracked slightly, and Sara pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down her face as he started to shake with silent sobs, "I don't know how to help you…I can't think of anything. I've called our lawyer, he'll meet us at the station…I don't know what else we can do."

"Sara, I didn't mean to hurt her. You have to believe me." Greg mumbled into her shoulder, his voice filled with desperation and sorrow, "I don't know what came over me."

"Shh," she soothed, rubbing his back gently, "I know you'd never hurt anyone intentionally. You just need to talk to someone, a professional or something; this isn't going to get better on its own."

"I didn't mean to hurt her." Greg repeated, his body trembling, "I didn't mean to hurt her."

"I know." Sara whispered, holding him tightly as her own chest began to grow tight with fear. What was going to happen now? How could she even begin to try and fix this? If she bailed him out of jail and took him home, what would keep him from losing touch with reality again? What would happen if Alyssa came back to find him? What if he found out she was out of prison? How much more could his sanity take before he completely broke? As his body shuddered once more, Sara couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to save him from himself.

--

"Coming up at 6, a Las Vegas Police Department employee has been arrested after-"

Sara's head snapped up towards the direction of the television, and she bitterly spat, "Turn that garbage off."

"Is he still in questioning?" Nick asked, flipping the television off and taking a seat across from the jittery Mrs. Sanders, "What exactly happened?"

Sara absentmindedly stirred her coffee as she shook her head, lost in the garbled phrases and events of the day. With a tired sigh, she looked up at Nick and shrugged, "I don't exactly know. Grissom got a call that there was a simple assault at our apartment complex, and Greg was involved. It wasn't until we arrived that we found out Greg was the assailant. Apparently the…victim…thought our apartment was her cousin's, and she knocked on the door…Greg went ballistic, had her pinned up against the wall, threatening to rip her head off, when a neighbor called 911."

"So I take it Greg hasn't been doing so well." Nick replied flatly, shaking his head bitterly, "That's not Greg, he doesn't have a violent bone in his body. I wish I could get my hands on that Miller woman and show her a thing or two about-"

"Don't make open threats in front of law enforcement." Brass's voice cut in, "Sara, if you want to post his bail, you can come with me."

Sara sighed, her hand falling limply to the table, "Take him home and watch over him myself, knowing that psychotic bitch is out there roaming freely, or leave him in here, scared and alone?"

"Tough call, kiddo." Brass replied sympathetically, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as she trudged towards the doorway, "6 to one, half a dozen to the other."

"Call me if you need." Nick's voice echoed through the corridor as Sara and Brass slowly made their way down the tile hall, their footsteps echoing with every step.

They were silent for a few moments before Brass summoned the nerve to broach the subject everyone had been carefully avoiding since this whole ordeal started.

"He needs help…psychological help. This is too much for him, anyone really, to handle on their own. I'm no shrink, but there's obviously some post traumatic stress disorder or something going on. He won't get better without seeing someone. I mean, this isn't the same kid who used to give us grief in the lab, if I hadn't known him for years, I'd barely recognize him like this."

"I know." Sara replied softly, "I think he knows too."

Brass patted her back reassuringly as they reached the doorway, "Just hang in there, okay? We're all here for you guys if you need anything, you know how to reach us."

"Thanks." Sara murmured, flashing him a sad smile before mentally gearing herself to face her husband…her husband, the victim. Her husband, the ex-lab-tech, ex-CSI. Her husband, the criminal.

"I was watching TV, flipping through channels. I was just starting to relax…."

Sara looked up, shocked by Greg's voice. The ride home had been completely silent, as had the first three hours back in their home. Greg had thrown himself on the sofa, where he had spent the majority of his time since coming home from the hospital after the attack. After spending the better part of an hour trying to find a way to broach the subject of the day's events, Sara had eventually given up and busied herself with paperwork she had brought home from the lab.

He briefly met her gaze before letting his eyes trail to the television, which was turned off, "They had a news brief, a preview of the next newscast or something…they showed _her_. Is it true? She was released?"

Sara nodded, her body bristling with anger towards the captor, the reason behind this whole fiasco, as he spoke.

"I went numb, I didn't know what to think, what to do. I wasn't really scared, I was just…cold. Not ten seconds later, there was someone knocking on the door. I didn't even see the kid's face, I just saw someone with _her_ hair style, standing on my doorstep, just moments after finding out she was released. Before I knew what was going on, I had that kid up against the wall…if someone hadn't intervened, I would….well…."

Sara nodded, silently finishing Greg's thought. Things could have definitely been a lot worse.

"You must think I'm some sort of monster." Greg whispered, "I attacked you, now there's this stranger…I'm scared, Sara. I'm really scared."

Sara moved from the desk to the couch, grabbing Greg's arm when he tried to move away. "We're going to get through this. Everyone knows you aren't the type to go ballistic for no reason. You've been through a lot, Greg. I'm not saying it's okay to intimidate strangers, I'm not saying it was the right thing to do…but I do believe it's a natural reaction. We're going to get you help. Grissom gave me the name of someone you can talk to, just to work out these issues…"

"I…" Greg started, his mouth going dry at the mere thought of admitting he needed help, "I think you're right. I'm in way over my head here, Sara. I feel like I'm drowning, I don't know what to do. I don't feel like I'm myself anymore, I can barely remember who I used to be, before all of _this_ started. I'm…I'm in a really bad place. I'm…I'm scared of myself."

Sara felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and she struggled to take a deep breath while processing the words her husband was speaking. Shaking her head slightly, she spoke through her tears and pulled Greg tightly against her, "You don't have to be scared…I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We're a team."

Her skin tingled with electricity as a tear fell from his cheek to her shoulder, and for a moment, the two of them clung tightly to each other, afraid to let go, afraid to breathe and ruin this brief moment where they finally felt connected to something other than nightmares of the kidnapping, the torture.

And as glass shattered behind them, the bond evaporated, sending both spiraling back into the reality of the situation.

TBC


	8. Markings

_A/N: Wow, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. I'm really trying for faster updates, but my in-progress stories just do not want to be written for some reason. I blame the evil members of the university system for ensuring I have no spare time. But, I digress. I know I've said it before, but this time I mean it…I will definitely be updating more frequently. The winter has disappeared, and spring was non-existant, and it's already too warm to do too much outside. Too bad for my fitness levels, but great news for my computer (which has been experiencing a great deal of neglect)._

_Bribes help the process along. :D_

_Thanks to Emmithar and Kegel for pushing me not to delete the little I had written of this chapter. I love to know what everyone thinks, good or bad…although I do prefer good. :D. _

_Jenny_

**Chapter Eight:**

"Sara? Sara, can you hear me? Sara?"

Sara's eyes slowly blinked open, causing her to wince as the bright light above her assaulted her eyes. The light caused a surge of pain to wash through her body, and she quickly tensed, closing her eyes once more. She recognized that voice, although her hazy mind couldn't place where she knew it from. What was going on? Why was she on the hard tile floor? What happened?

"Sara? I need you to open your eyes and look at me, alright? Can you hear me?"

Hank. Hank Pedigrew. Great, what was that jerk doing in her apartment? She hadn't seen him in years, why was he hovering over her now? The haze surrounding her mind started to clear, and she tried to open her eyes once more. Hank was a paramedic. If he was in her apartment, it had to be a business call. But why would there be a paramedic in her apartment? Why was there so much noise?

"Sara, don't go back to sleep, I need you to open your eyes."

Hank sighed heavily, placing Sara's hand on the ground as it went limp, his patient obviously slipping back into unconsciousness. He looked up at his partner, "Get the backboard, we'll have to transport her."

Kyle, his partner, hurried off, leaving Hank and Sara in the company of the two officers securing the small apartment. Brushing the hair from Sara's forehead, he sighed once more. At one point, he had serious feelings for this woman, and even though it had been many years ago, it was impossible to keep them from resurfacing in the wake of her current disaster. He lifted her hand once more, glancing down at his watch as he began to monitor her pulse once more.

"How is she?"

Hank looked up, his expression hardening a bit as he met the eye of Catherine Willows. He had never gotten along poorly with any of the CSI team, but ever since he and Sara had broken up, Catherine had made it a point to give him the cold shoulder. Glancing back down at his unresponsive patient, he responded in, what he hoped was, a cool, professional voice, "She hasn't regained complete consciousness since we arrived, although I don't see any significant trauma. Cuts and abrasions, of course, from the broken glass, as well as a deep cut on her hand. Once we get her into the ambulance, we'll get that cleaned up. She's got a concussion, and possibly a broken wrist."

Catherine squatted beside the paramedic, snapping a few photographs of Sara's injuries, "She has defensive wounds."

Both were silent as Catherine glanced around the room, snapping pictures while making mental reminders of what to investigate further. "Is this where you found her?"

Hank nodded, motioning towards the opposite wall, which was covered in blood, "That was like that when we arrived; Sara was on the floor over here. We walked only from the doorway to Sara, uh, the victim, and we haven't touched anything."

"Thanks." Catherine replied, carefully moving towards the blood splatter, snapping photographs before pulling out a swab to collect a sample, "This is a lot of blood."

"Whoever received those injuries is probably in pretty bad shape right now." Hank affirmed, shaking his head in disgust. He had never really been close to Greg, but knowing that the blood probably came from the young CSI was enough to make his stomach turn. Glancing back down at Sara, he couldn't help but wonder why bad things always happened to the best of people. His thoughts were broken as Sara whimpered slightly, her eyes trying to flutter open once more.

"Sara, can you hear me? Open your eyes, okay?"

Sara moaned quietly, trying to force her eyelids to cooperate. Hank was in her apartment, and judging from the other voices, it was safe to assume Catherine was there with the police department. But why would they need the crime lab in their apartment? Maybe they were doing some further investigation of Greg's assault case. Her mind drifted to her husband's smiling face, and immediately her eyes shot open. Greg. Shattering glass. Alyssa Miller's taunting voice. The knife. The fight.

"Greg." She gasped, struggling to sit up, despite Hank's protests, "Where is he? Is he alright? Greg!"

"Breathe," Hank instructed, holding her down, "In and out, in and out. Calm down, Sara, it's going to be alright."

"Greg!" Sara shrieked, protesting against Hank's grasp, "Where is he? What did she do to him?"

Hank glanced over at Catherine, who looked hesitant about reassuring her colleague over the situation. He couldn't really blame her, there _was_ a lot of blood, and they _were_ probably dealing with the same psychopath that had previously taken the young investigator. Following his gaze, Sara's eyes too went towards her blonde coworker, "C..Catherine? Greg?"

"We don't know where Greg is." Catherine replied soothingly, moving towards the brunette and speaking in soft, maternal tones, "But we'll find him. I promise you, we'll find him."

Sara's eyes traveled from the blonde to the wall beside the blonde, which was covered in blood spatter. Her stomach turned and she quickly shut her eyes, her lip quivering as she tried to hold back tears, "How can you say that?"

Catherine wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her friend, but found her investigative training kicking in, telling her that she'd contaminate what little evidence the brunette had on her. With a heavy sigh, she contemplated what to say next. She knew that a person could only loose so much blood before their heart was unable to pump the vital substance to all organs, causing them to each shut down as the heart's rhythm became more and more unstable. He would lose consciousness, and as less blood made its way to his brain, it would be too late to save him. She didn't want to lie and sugar coat the situation; Sara was no fool, they had both been in this field long enough to know the chances of finding Greg alive and unharmed. At the same time, the couple had been through so much, it felt like she'd be pouring salt in an open wound to tell Sara it was unlikely they'd find her husband alive. She hesitated before speaking softly, trying to soothe the nearly hysterical brunette, "You and Greg are our family, and we don't let family down. When Nick was being stalked, did we let him down?"

"No."

"And when he was taken from a crime scene and buried alive, did we let him down?"

Sara's voice sounded strained as she shut her eyes once more, "No."

"And last time Greg was taken, did we let him down?"

"No." Sara murmured, "We saved him."

"Then don't worry about this, we're going to find him and we're going to save him. But you can't freak out, you need to calm down and keep a level head. Can you do that for me? For Greg?"

Sara nodded, tears escaping her closed eyelids, "Yes."

"Good girl." Catherine soothed, "Now let the paramedics take care of you, and as soon as you have a clean bill of health, we'll talk about what happened."

Sara nodded, already drifting back into unconsciousness as the throbbing in her head intensified once more. Catherine was right, they'd find Greg, even if she had to work behind the scenes and locate him herself. She had done it before, she could do it again. Alyssa wasn't going to win, and she'd do whatever it took to make sure that bitch got what she deserved.

--

"The blood spatter indicates three significant blunt force traumas. I took a sample of each and left it in DNA. It appears he was struck once, bringing him to his knees, then twice more, before he fell to the floor." Catherine explained, using a pen to indicate her findings on a series of photographs from Greg and Sara's apartment, "By the size of the blood pool, it would be a safe guess to say he was attacked before Sara, because he obviously remained in this position for awhile. Once they release her, she's going to come down here and give a statement. Sara had defensive wounds on both hands, as well as several deep bruises. I had Warrick meet her at the hospital to take photographs of her injuries and collect evidence from her. She's still unconscious, so who knows when she'll be available for questioning."

"Were there any signs of forced entry?" Nick asked, studying the photographs in front of him, "How did she-" he paused, receiving a stern look from Grissom, "How did the perpetrator get into the apartment?"

Catherine opened a folder to reveal another series of photographs, "There was a single gunshot found embedded in the wall opposite the kitchen window. The glass surrounding the window is fractured, indicating that the bullet was fired from outside the apartment. The window itself looks as if it has been tampered with, but when the first responding officer arrived on the scene, the window was shut, and there's no blood or any other evidence that she- the perp- entered or exited through the window. The door showed no signs of forced entry, and the landlord says the only ones who have keys to the apartment are himself, Sara and Greg, and the maintenance man. He showed us to the maintenance man's apartment, but he wasn't home. Landlord says he works two jobs, so Brass is heading over to the second jobsite. Whoever the perp was, either they let themselves in, or Greg and Sara knew them well enough to let them in without question."

"Okay, I want you to go back to the apartment complex and talk to a few of the neighbors, see if they saw or heard anything. Check for anything you might have missed the first time. Nick, you and I are going to pay Miss Miller a visit." Grissom ordered, rising to his feet, "Cath, I want you to check in regularly, and keep a uniform with you at all times, just in case this isn't tied into the first abduction. Also, call Warrick and tell him that once he's finished at the hospital, to check out the girl involved in the battery charges with Greg, make sure this isn't a lashing out by her or her family."

The three began to gather their belongings in a tense silence, each trying to make sense of the recent turn of events. The silence was broken, however, by the door bursting open, a slightly out of breath Brass on the other side, "We needs to get to the Miller residence, she's got him."

"How can you be sure?" Grissom asked, following Brass as the older man rushed from the room, keys in hand, "I know she's a likely suspect, but there's no way to be 100 percent sure until we speak to Sara."

Brass shook his head, "Oh, I'm sure. PD just got a package from the lovely Miss Miller…a chunk of flesh with a "catch me if you can" type letter attached. Gil, she's playing for keeps this time."

_TBC _


	9. Mourning

A/N….it's been a long, long time coming, but I'm finally back with an update. Please excuse the delay, I have a 6 week old baby at home and I've been busy trying to bring him into the world and care for him (as well as my other little ones). I hope someone's still reading…

_**Chapter Nine: Mourning**_

Sara sat on the shower floor, her knees drawn to her chest. The last week had been a blur to her, and with everything that had happened lately, she wasn't up to dealing with people. Not just people, one person in particular, the person she was staying with.

The crime scene tape around her apartment had been removed several days ago, but she couldn't bear to spend one minute in the vicinity of their home, much less inside of the place they had called their home.

Home….she knew they'd never be able to call their two-bedroom apartment "home" again. There had been too much trauma, the walls were wrought with too many painful memories. As she leaned her head back, letting the hot water stream against her face, she fought back a sob. She wasn't even sure she and Greg were still a "they". After the attack, the crime lab had received a package from Alyssa, taunting them and daring them to go after her. A week later, there was no news, no leads, and little hope that they'd find Greg, dead or alive.

A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts, and she took a deep, steadying breath before calling out, "Yes?"

"Is everything ok in there?" Nick's voice rang out, wrought with concern, "You've been in there for awhile…."

Sara reached forward, shutting off the water, "Sorry, I'm getting out now."

"No, no. Take your time, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok."

Sara wrapped the towel around herself with a scowl. The longer they went without word on Greg, the more overprotective their friends and coworkers had become. She wasn't all too convinced that the abundance of concern wasn't masked pity, but for now she was letting that slide. At least the time she spent showing them she wasn't falling completely apart was time she wasn't spending brooding over the possibility of what could be going on wherever Greg had been taken.

Truth be told, she wasn't fine and she wasn't quite sure she'd ever be fine again. How could she be? The man that she loved was being held captive, again, by a lunatic and this time they had no clue where he could be, if he was still alive, how badly he was hurt. They didn't even have any ideas on where to start searching. For all she knew, she could be a widow at this very moment.

She used the towel to wipe a clean spot on the fogged mirror, taking in her own ragged expression. She looked just as bad as she had felt, like she had aged thirty years in just a few short weeks. Would things ever go back to a semblance of normalcy? Would they find Greg? What shape would he be in if and when they found him? Or would she just spend the rest of her life in limbo, not really being sure of anything whatsoever.

She heard a door open and voices carrying over the sound of the air conditioner's whirring and she sighed deeply. It was bad enough to have to constantly put on a charade of sanity for Nick, but it was exponentially more difficult to do when there were more do-gooders waiting to pounce, observing and commenting on her every move, word, and facial expression.

She took as much time as she could getting dressed, and proceeded to clean the small bathroom thoroughly before she knew she had to join her friends in the living room to prevent Nick from seeking her out once more.

"Sara." Nick spoke quietly, moving to meet her in the doorway as she appeared, his hand moving to the small of her back as he led her to the sofa.

She sat down, surprised to see Brass sitting in one of Nick's easy chairs, a no-nonsense business expression on his face. He looked weary and tired, not to mention apprehensive. Sara's stomach clenched, and she forced herself to take a deep steadying breath, not to panic before she heard his news. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, she wasn't able to vocally respond when he murmured a random greeting. Her eyes locked in on his for a brief moment before he diverted his gaze. She knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Sara, how are you holding up?"

"Cut the pleasantries. What's happened?"

Nick took Sara's hand into his own, giving it a tight squeeze before she jerked it back and placed it in her lap, clenching it to match it's pair. The worried glance Nick and Brass shared didn't go unnoticed, and it only served to irritate her already shot nerves. Just as she was about to angrily snap at Brass to just spit it out already, he hesitantly spoke.

"We're calling off the full-search on Greg."

Sara's stomach rolled and her veins felt like they had been pumped with ice. For a moment she grew dizzy, forgetting to breathe as his words sunk in. They were giving up on him? After only a week? This couldn't be true.

"Wh…what?" Sara stammered, "You're kidding, right?"

Brass put his hand on her shoulder, a deep expression of concern etched onto his weary features, "We just don't have the manpower to keep exhausting every possibility anymore. We're going to keep looking, but we're going to have to scale back….if we get any new leads in, of course we'll follow up on them, but right now we're just at a dead end."

"So you're just giving up?" Sara asked coldly, pulling out of his grasp with an icy glare, "Someone that you've known for years…you're just giving up on him, treating him like a cold case after just 7 days?"

A pained expression crossed Brass's face and he stood, "I'm sorry Sara, I don't want to do this any more than you, but there's just nothing more we can do."

"Yes there is!" Sara shouted, jumping to her feet, "You can get people out there looking for him, expand the search area, something! We know who has him!"

Nick grabbed her arm as she tried to storm off, pulling her into a tight embrace, "You know we wouldn't stop looking if there was even an inkling of a chance that we could find him."

"So you're in on this too!?" Sara shouted, pulling away with a hurt, angry expression, "We never gave up on you, Nick, I can't believe you're giving up so easily on Greg. I thought he was your best friend."

"You know--"

"Don't tell me what I know!" Sara shouted, tears of anger, grief, and betrayal spilling onto her cheeks, "I'll tell _you_ what I know. I know that Greg is out there, and he needs our help, and he's hurt. I know that if it were either of you out there, I wouldn't rest until we had you back. I know that you won't let me anywhere near the case, but you're _quitting _on Greg when he needs you the most!"

She turned on her heel, fleeing the room and slamming the guest room door shut behind her.

"Damn it Sara!" Nick shouted after her, "You know that's not true!"

He sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as he loudly exhaled, "That went about as well as I expected it to."

"You know it's what we have to do." Brass said softly, his hand resting on Nick's shoulder, "She'll realize that too, once she calms down."

Nick remained silent, only sighing once more, "I hate this. I don't want to give up on him."

"We've exhausted all of our resources, you know that as well as I do. We just need to wait for something else to show up before we can resume the search, it's hard to look for something when you have no idea of where to even start." Brass made a move to walk towards the door, then stopped, turning back to Nick, "Keep a close eye on her."

"I am." Nick replied quietly, "I'll see you at work tonight."

Brass let himself out, leaving Nick to lean his head back against the couch, running his hand through his hair. If he knew Sara as well as he thought he did, things would only go downhill from here.

* * *

Greg was barely able to open an eye as another wave of pain washed through his weak and weary body. He wasn't sure how long he had been held captive, although he knew that every time he opened his eyes, he felt weaker and weaker. Objects swam in his vision as he tried to focus and concentrate on where he was and what was holding him down.

He took a deep breath, wheezing slightly as pain shot through his lungs. All he could remember from the last time he had managed consciousness was that he was in excruciating pain and in a room with minimal light, at best.

Struggling to make out any sort of identifying object in the room, he concluded that he had probably not been moved. The room had the distinct odor of blood, and he forced back a gag as he realized the blood was probably his own.

Using the majority of his remaining strength, he moved his arm, trying to assess the damages. He was pleased, in a twisted respect, that he found it in tact, as well as his other appendages. He was also relieved to learn that he was not being restrained by any physical means, Alyssa must have assumed with the bullet wound he had sustained in his leg and the severe beating he had taken, that he'd be unable to escape. The only question now was why had she kept him alive? Why hadn't she carved him up like her last victims, like she had tried to do the last time he had been held captive? What sort of twisted plan could she possibly have in store?

He sat up, a wave of dizziness washing over him and causing him to pause, wondering if it would be for the best if he just laid back down and tried to regain some more of his strength back before exerting himself anymore. Flashes of Alyssa's previous victims assaulted him and he decided that time was not on his side. He gently rose, surprised as his sheer capacity to remain upright. He felt woozy and in a ridiculously tremendous amount of pain, but he forced himself to push forward. It wasn't about his comfort, it was purely about survival at this point.

The room he was being held in was no smaller than a janitor's closet, but it did contain one boarded up window. He was fairly confident that if he could remove the board, he'd be able to narrowly fit through the window. He weakly hobbled a few steps in that direction when he heard Alyssa's voice from outside of the door. With a surge of panic running through his veins, he moved the few inches back to the blood-stained cot he had been resting on, trying to get into the same position she had left him in. The last thing he needed at this point was for her to realize he was mobile. The doorknob turned and he shut his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even and resist the urge to try and choke her as he felt her breath against his face. There would be plenty of time for revenge later, right now he was busy trying to formulate a plan.

To be continued…


	10. Mistakes

A/N: Thank you to anyone who is still reading this! A big thank you to Emmithar for forcing me (quite literally, lol) to write this again after I had abandoned it for so long. Please enjoy!

Capture:

Chapter Ten:

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Damn it. He hadn't heard her coming. Feeling her breath against the back of his neck, Greg immediately let go of the board he was prying away from the window, his hands falling limply to his sides as he took a deep, steadying breath. This could not possibly end well. He slowly turned around, hating that he was caught off guard, and tried to formulate some sort of excuse, but was stopped before he had chance to speak.

"Did you really think you could get away with it?" Alyssa laughed, "What exactly did you plan on doing if you did escape? Did you think you could walk through the desert, shoeless and half dressed, and just stumble back into Vegas? Are you really that stupid?"

Greg remained silent, his hands clenched into tight fists. If it weren't for the gun attached to her hip, he would have hit her. He had never felt so much hatred towards another human being before, it was so powerful, so intense, that it scared him. A familiar wave of dizziness hit and he leaned against the wall to steady himself. He hated being so weak.

"You need to be taught a lesson."

Greg raised an eyebrow, eyeing his captor with a hint of skepticism. What was she going to do, eat him? She'd already tried, and at this point he could care less, as long as he walked out of this prison alive. He was fairly certain she wasn't going to kill him, since by his calculations, he had been held against his will for at least three weeks now.

Without saying a word, Alyssa turned and exited the room, slamming the door forcefully behind her. Greg's hand twitched, the desire to start working on the window again overpowering him, but he forced himself to stand still. He knew she'd be back, and he had already made her angry enough for one day.

Sure enough, moments later she returned, carrying several straps in her hands, "Lay down," She instructed, motioning towards the bed, "I will _not_ have you trying to escape me again."

"So you're going to leave me chained to a bed?" Greg scowled, glaring at her, yet doing what he was told. Even though he felt strongly that Alyssa wasn't going to kill him, at least not yet, he wasn't stupid enough to provoke her any more than he already had. After being shot, beaten, and almost consumed more than once, he knew better than to protest, especially when his captor was armed.

She wordlessly strapped his arms and legs to the bed frame, gently caressing his bruises as he winced in pain, "I'm sorry, but you need to be taught a lesson."

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again!" Greg pleaded, hating himself for caving, but unable to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth, "I'm sorry! Please don't!"

"You have to be taught a lesson." Alyssa replied simply, refusing to meet his eyes as she tighten the straps holding him down.

"What are you doing?" Greg demanded as she began to strap his chest to the bed as well, "Are you insane?"

Alyssa only laughed as she pulled out a roll of plastic wrap from the back pocket of her jeans. She lifted his head, wrapping the plastic around several times, barely leaving enough space for him to breathe through his nose, seemingly oblivious to Greg's struggle against her. She gave him a light pat on the head before exiting the room once more, leaving Greg to wonder what she possibly had in store for him. Was she going to suffocate him? Would this finally be the end?

His eyes were shut when she entered the room once more, and he closed them tighter as he felt her breathing against his skin. He didn't want to know what she was about to do, it would be easier if he didn't have a chance to mentally prepare himself.

He was wrong.

His eyes flew open as he felt water pour over him, soaking his shirt, his face, his hair…he immediately began to cough and gag as he struggled against the restraints. This was how he was going to die, she was going to drown him. He turned his head from side to side, struggling to breathe, only to find that the plastic triggered his gag reflex more as he inhaled. Coughing and sputtering, he tried to signal to Alyssa to stop. He had learned his lesson, he wasn't going to try and escape again. If she stopped what she was doing, he would never go against her wishes again.

The water stopped and she plastic was pushed away as he gasped for breath, his entire body violently shaking. He tried to find the words to apologize, to beg for forgiveness and a pardon from her punishment, but he found himself unable to speak, still feeling as if he were being held underwater.

"This is for your own good, Gregory." She spoke softly, as if speaking to a young child, "The sooner you learn what behavior won't be tolerated, the sooner we can begin to have a functioning relationship."

Greg only whimpered, tears streaming down his face. How had this happened? What did she want from him? Wasn't anyone going to save him? Were they even looking? How much longer would he have to go through this?

The plastic covered his mouth again and the water cascaded upon him once more, sending him into a full blown panic attack, despite his best efforts to stay calm. His heart racing, blood pounding through his ears, he knew this would be the end. The harder he struggled to breathe, his chest growing increasingly tight, the more it felt as if he was going to suffocate, to drown. As he started to lose consciousness, his mind was bombarded by a rapid assault of images from the last couple of weeks.

Waking up alone and disoriented, the beatings, which had stopped after he started to comply with her wishes, slowly working on removing the heavy board covering the only window, the dark nights, the stench of the bucket he had been using for a bathroom, the bland morsels of food he had to practically beg for, the loneliness, the isolation.

Maybe it would be better if he did die.

--

Sara awoke with a start, her heart racing as she grabbed her throat, panting heavily. She didn't know exactly what was wrong, but she found herself terrified beyond belief. The door opened and Nick burst in, his gun in hand, "What's going on?"

"Just a dream." Sara gasped, struggling to breathe deeply, "I don't even remember what it was about."

"Are you okay?" Nick asked, sitting beside her, "Breathe."

"I…I can't." Sara gasped, shutting her eyes and forcing her lungs to function properly. Slowly, she began to calm, her heart rate slowing back down to an acceptable range, finally able to catch her breath, "That was so weird."

"You don't have any idea what the dream was about?" Nick asked, concern evident on his face. Nightmares were definitely not out of the ordinary since Sara began to stay with him after Greg's abduction. The first week or so, they were constant, occurring 2 or 3 times a night. Gradually, they tapered off, now only plaguing her once every few days. They were always the same, though, sheer terror with no memory of why she was so haunted.

Sara pushed her covers off, unable to be in bed any longer. She groaned as her chest began to ache from the slight panic attack she had experienced, and she moved to the window, cracking the blinds to peer down onto the busy street below.

"Go bed to bed, Nick. I'm fine."

"I was getting up anyway."

A quick glance at the clock told Sara he was lying, but she pretended to play along, grateful for the company. Since Greg was taken, she found herself constantly battling feelings of loneliness and depression. Following her friend into the living room, she gratefully accepted the offer of a cup of coffee, sitting with her legs drawn beneath her and staring at the wall ahead.

"Grissom's doing evaluations tonight." Nick said with a groan as he sat beside his brunette friend, "It's everyone's favorite part of the year."

"I'm sure he'll have plenty to say about me." Sara muttered, laying her head against his shoulder. It was no secret that with all of the drama taking place with Greg, over the last few months she had several slip-ups and mistakes in her work. No one blamed her, really, most of her coworkers were surprised to see how well she was holding up, despite the fact that her husband was probably dead.

Perhaps if she believed there was a chance he could be dead, she would have fallen apart by now, but she refused to give into those suggestions. She knew he was holding on, in whatever shape Alyssa had left him in, waiting on them to find him. And she wasn't going to let him down. Most of her non-working hours were spent following up on leads from a private investigator, no matter how ludicrous and far-fetched they seemed, no matter how many leads turned out to be false information or dead ends (which most of them did). She was going to find him, and when she did, she was never going to let him out of her sight again.

It didn't take long before fatigue overcame her again, her head growing heavy against Nick's arm. Shifting into a more comfortable position, Nick allowed his own eyes to close, and the two friends drifted back to sleep. At least in their dreams, everything was alright once more.

TBC


End file.
